


impoverished, in squalor

by Marvelgeek42



Series: some day, some day (yeah) [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: (the google translate kind), 70s, 80s, Alexander Hamilton Has ADHD, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Character Death, Character(s) of Color, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Depression, Eating Disorders, Español | Spanish, Foster Care, Gen, Hurricanes & Typhoons, Immigration & Emigration, Implied/Referenced Child Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Self Confidence Issues, Sexism, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Alexander Hamilton, car crash, physical health issues, the one where i take Alex's backstory and make it much more painful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 13:26:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16703470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelgeek42/pseuds/Marvelgeek42
Summary: “And if you want to call you friends,” Martha leads, most likely simply intending to show off the location of the phone.But Alejandra snorts. “Friends? I don’t have those. I have a list of about five people where I am reasonably sure they don’t want me dead, I’m forbidden from contacting two of them, you’re two more, and somehow the remaining one is none other than Benedict Arnold.” She read something about Conway dying in the newspaper, so she doesn’t see the need to include him in this sad, sad list.





	impoverished, in squalor

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if you know better about any of these issues and things, correct me.

Alejandra’s oldest memory is her mother singing a lullaby to her and her older brother James as the three of them lay together in her mother’s bed during a storm. They only have two beds for the three of them, since Alejandra’s old one is being reserved for the baby currently in her mother’s stomach.

_(His father had called him Alexandra the few times he was there.)_

The story had been about pirates and the sound of the waves in the background had lost their horror for the moment and instead really helped them imagine they were right there on the sea with them, fighting and singing, and dancing and _not_ doing the things that their mother explained were very bad.

“Just because pirates were not exactly nice people, that does not mean that you should be,” her mother explains.

_(It takes Alex until he is Alex again to figure out that she is begging them not to turn out like his father.)_

Her father is off somewhere. Alejandra can’t remember, but honestly, she cannot care less. She does not know the man, after all, not really. What she knows is that they completely forget that there is a storm outside a while in. They forget about the waves and the rain and the fact that their house isn’t even close to stable enough to be guaranteed to survive this storm.

For the moment, they are content.

_(In all honesty, later, when Alex thinks about these stories, he sometimes wonders why on earth his mother had told them unedited stories of rape that had been passed down for generations._

_He likes to think she was just protecting them in her own way, telling them the horrors of the world so they wouldn’t be fooled by it.)_

She can’t have been more than two or maybe three at that point, and yet her mother had gotten her used to the sea already. She didn’t fear it — only the deep depths or huge storms — and instead learned to love it.

Back then she had been very envious of the people old and wealthy enough to be able to afford scuba diving, but she begs her mother and brother to take her to the beach as frequently as possible, which was the next best thing.

That night is no the one that makes her fear the ocean again, though there is one not all that much later that does it. Only fear is not exactly the right word.

A healthy level of respect is a better term. She still appreciates the beauty, but she is also very much aware of the destruction it can cause.

_(The baby does not manage to survive more than its birth. It would have been a girl.)_

* * *

 Alejandra’s father leaves completely when she is five.

She doesn’t completely understand why, but then again, there were many things about that man that she did not understand. The way he drinks and why he hurts them the rare times he is even there simply being on top of the list.

But the thing is, Alejandra’s mom is pregnant during that time. Alejandra really looks forward to being a big sister — even though some of that does not feel completely right for a reason she can’t put her finger on _(he figures it out a few years later)_ — and really hopes that this time, she will actually get to experience it.

But before that is set to happen, they have bigger problems, namely an even bigger lack of money than usual, as her father had taken everything he could with him.

They have enough money to afford the rent of the hut they call home — it was better to pay Alejandra’s father than to look for a new place entirely, given there was about none. That does not leave them with leftovers for much else. Food seems to be slipping more and more in the optional list which is something that should not be allowed to happen.

“Take more hours,” she begs her mother. “At least until the baby is here. If they won’t pay you the same, that’s the only thing you can do.” Alejandra would go out and get her own job, but it is not like she has any chance of getting one

“Oh _mi hija_ ,” her mother had pulled her towards her chest. “You should not know about such things. _No mientras seas tan joven_.”

On some level, Alejandra is aware of this. She knows things others her age don’t. She’s much more like an adult than James — who is three years older — on pretty much any given day. She uses words she shouldn’t know and she can do things she never learned.

She doesn’t know why that is; she just knows _that_ it is.

“Let me help,” she begs her mother, “I can help.”

* * *

Alejandra starts going to primary school that September.

Getting a letter of good health is a challenge, not because of the payment, but because Alejandra’s health is less than stellar. Mosquitos love to target her and she’s suffered from yellow fever last year — there’s a vaccine now, but she did not get it, because her father had been against it — and pretty much the same is true for measles and malaria. That all had left an effect on her lungs and kidneys, leaving them in a rather poor — but still working — state.

There’s also her seeming inability to sit still as well as the rampant mood swings that leave her in an especially bad mood — or, much more rarely, an unreasonably good one — without any real cause.

But Alejandra manages to convince the doctor that she is in a good enough shape to go to school. She has to learn because she can _and will_ get out of this place.

It’s the first time she had really come in contact with someone outside her family and next-door neighbors because meeting someone on the street doesn’t count. And it’s only then that it occurs to her that so many people look different from her family.

They aren’t white like her father, that much she had known, but she isn’t really black either and neither is their mother.

“My father’s ancestors came from India a few hundred years ago. They were brought here by others to work, just like the ancestors of the black students. My mother came from the Dominican Republic,” her mother informs her once Alejandra asks. “Most people tend to have children with people who look like them, that’s why you’re special.”

_(His mother had left out a few things and used euphemisms for others, but once again it takes Alexander a while to become aware of it.)_

* * *

Alejandra’s younger brother Carlos dies before he turns two. There’s almost half a year between his death and what would have been his birthday.

He had been a smart kid; they had gotten him to say their names and so much more long before his death due to the destruction caused by Hurricanes David and Frederic.

But he died before he even got to really experience the world. Alejandra cannot tell if it is more, equally or less sad than the death of her unnamed sister.

_(Alexander still cannot.)_

At that point the green cards finally arrive in the post — Alejandra later learns that her mother had applied for them before she had even been born. They arrive, they are finally here, both for her and the children, and she could not be gladder. She has had enough of this place, enough of this life.

She tells James and Alejandra to pack their things, takes them out of the lists for the next school year, and they leave.

_(There’s a family at the airport that catches Alejandra’s eye for some reason. There’s a white couple and what has to be their maid. The latter is carrying a baby and holding the hand of a boy not much older than Alejandra; both clearly her children, but both look like the man as well._

_She thinks the boy looks like a John.)_

They take everything they can carry, sell everything else  — there’s no all that much — and make their way to the US part of the Virgin Islands and from there to the mainland.

They are technically British immigrants, but they don’t look like it. They don’t sound like it either, as it turns out. They pronounce words differently, they use different grammar and the people here don’t like it.

So Alejandra works to hide it. She’s going to succeed and if changing that part about herself will help then she will not hesitate to do it.

_(Alexander remembers and laughs dryly at the bitter irony.)_

* * *

They cannot afford healthcare in the US.

They cannot afford to go to the doctor, because of the bills and because they need the money from every single hour their mother can work.

Alex is six and James is ten, it’s not like they can do it instead.

And they know no one else here; no one who would give them enough money to pay for the ridiculously overpriced medical costs.

They don’t have insurance, they only barely can afford to eat on top of their rent.

And Alejandra’s mother dies on the way from one of her jobs to another.

_(As Alejandra is grieving his mother, the utter sense of familiarity she has felt on way too many occasions returns. She doesn’t understand what it means; it is like having a word on the tip of your tongue but not quite being able to think of it._

_You know there is something there, but you can’t tell what it is.)_

* * *

Alejandra and James get put in the foster system, but after the first home — the Stevens family — decide that they don’t want to take care of Alejandra anymore.

James stays with them and Alejandra isn’t allowed to contact him or the family’s son Ned as long as the parents have anything to say about it.

* * *

The first rule in the household of his next placement with one Thomas Conway is that there’s not going to be any money spent on things that are not completely and utterly necessary.

“I don’t have the money for that. Why do you think I haven’t moved out of this place?” Conway snorts at that point and gestured to the tiny apartment. “I assure you it’s not by choice.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alejandra responds.

“You don’t even remember yet,” Conway says flatly, seemingly just having realized that.

“Remember what?”

He looks at her with something akin to pity for the first time. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.”

* * *

After that conversation, Conway turns out to be slightly better than Alejandra had feared.

There’s no lost love between them by any means, but there is no real sense of resentment or anything, either. They share an apartment, but they mostly ignore each other when possible.

It’s not great, however, it’s a lot better than it could have been. At least she learns to make do with little and rely on yourself.

All of this ends after a few months when Alejandra gets sick and the school doctor tells her that she needs to go to a hospital and get some medicine.

Conway can’t afford that, so she has to go.

Neither of them is quite sure whether or not they’re sad about it.

* * *

The next place that Alejandra is supposed to call home is with Henry Clinton and his wife.

It’s definitely worse.

The wife doesn’t seem to care about anything, really. Or if she does she’s excellent at hiding it.

The husband smiles at Alejandra precisely as long as the social workers are there with them.

The very second the door is closed, his expression turns and Alejandra takes a step back, pressing herself against the wall.

“Never thought I’d get the chance to get my revenge, Hamilton,” he says, walking over towards her. “But I think I’m going to enjoy it.”

* * *

Every time Alejandra lies in bed, she closes her eyes and wishes she was anywhere but here. 

She never had much of a sleep schedule, but now the constant pain only makes it worse. By the time she gets used to it, her sleep schedule has adapted enough that she still lies there awake for hours.

Or she would if she was physically capable of doing that. Instead, she works silently for school. It’s the only time of the day — or night, really — where she can be sure to get it done.

Getting bad marks is one of the things that Clinton had told him _(wait, what)_ would be painful and she’s doing her best to avoid those, thank you very much.

She’s still not sure what the rules actually are — in fact, she’s half-convinced that Clinton is making them up on the spot — but she needs to do as much as she can to avoid the pain.

Alejandra learns to keep her mouth shut and work in secret.

* * *

She’s scheduled a hospital visit to get her kidneys checked out around five months after her seventh birthday.

Unlike the other times, Clinton doesn’t limit himself to giving her conveniently explainable injuries beforehand.

The handprints get noticed and Alejandra wakes up with her things next to her in the hospital room the next morning.

* * *

Alejandra gets picked up by one Benedict Arnold and that’s when the memories from her past life return.

If nothing else, it makes for one awkward car ride, since the man has clearly seen the spark of recognition in her eyes.

“You are going to hurt me for the last time as well?” she asks eventually, slipping into the Creole grammar of the first years of this new childhood.

Arnold laughs drily. “Nah, I’m not that much of an asshole. Besides, I think you’ll be doing a pretty good job of that yourself.” The ‘I know I did’ stays unsaid.

He’s right, too.

There’s so much he shouldn’t have done — the Reynolds affair being an obvious one, supporting Adams’s Alien and Sedition Acts an equally valid one — and as much he should have done — like supporting Burr when he tried to pass voting rights for women or being consequent after declaring himself abolitionist.

And the realization that he had been such a hypocrite makes her think that maybe she had deserved all the pain Clinton had put her through.

_(It’s only in retrospect that Alex notices he’s slipped into male pronouns during these thoughts._

_Maybe the fact he didn’t should have been a sign.)_

* * *

Arnold finds his old wife again when Alejandra is about to turn eight. Since the woman, now older than her, doesn’t feel inclined to raise someone she had once accused of a desire to murder her newborn as a part of a scheme, Alejandra gets thrown out just before Christmas.

The household of the Lees is much worse.

For one thing, he’s very much not allowed to punch Charles in the face, who at last is a teenager and not the foster father like their original age difference would have them. That makes it at least a bit more bearable.

For another, every time she asks a question or makes a comment they consider rude and unnecessary, Alex’s next meal becomes nonexistent.

It’s kind of frightening how quickly she gets used to it.

* * *

She’s nine and three quarters by the time the Lees get into a car accident. Charles is off to college at that point but Alejandra is at the car because of course she is. It’s the logical conclusion at this point in her life.

Charles, rather understandably, does not feel like becoming her guardian, a decision that is completely mutual.

And for the second time in her life, she gets picked up from a hospital from a different foster family than she had been with before.

This time, it’s John and Charlotte Burgoyne.

How is it even possible for all of her guardians to have a grudge against her? Why would they even agree to foster her?

Apparently, the common motivation seems to be revenge.

_(There’s also the fact that not many really want kids older than toddlers. Or non-white ones. Or ones with poor health. And her intelligence doesn’t exactly present itself in the most endearing way, either.)_

It’s better than the Lees’ place was and that’s all Alejandra really has left to say at this point.

_(She still continues to eat very little. Just… in case. In case she ever has to get used to it again.)_

* * *

Mrs. Burgoyne becomes pregnant and they do not want to care for more than one child.

Alejandra is used to it at this point.

She’s eleven years old and, quite frankly, she’s not one hundred percent sure she even wants to continue. Only the drive from her last life is still keeping her going, telling her that she will rise above all of this and succeed as she has done before.

The fact that she’s picked up by Richard Howe has her internally screaming in frustration until he assures her that he’s just taking her in to pay off a favor for the Washingtons, whose paperwork is almost through. They shouldn’t be together much longer than a month.

Which, as it turns out, is still enough for a bruise or two.

* * *

Alejandra arrives at the Washington’s place on the morning of December 14th of all days — the anniversary of both his marriage and the General’s death — and she hopes with all her heart that this won’t turn out the same way all those before had.

_(This one has a higher chance of ending up good, Alexander thinks. He hadn’t been fighting against them the last time around and he had stopped the General from calling him ‘son’ in public multiple times before._

_Wait, why does the use of Alexander and male pronouns feel so right?! It’s Alejandra this time around, right?_

_...right?)_

It’s without a single doubt the warmest welcome she’s ever had. They seem actually _glad_ to see her, which is just surreal.

They give her a tour of their house together — it’s bigger than any other house Alejandra had stayed in before, and she’s the only child at that — and they actually make an effort to pronounce her name correctly instead of just sticking to Alexandra as she had honestly expected them to do.

“And if you want to call you friends,” Martha leads, most likely simply intending to show off the location of the phone.

But Alejandra snorts. “Friends? I don’t have those. I have a list of about five people where I am reasonably sure they don’t want me dead, I’m forbidden from contacting two of them, you’re two more, and somehow the remaining one is none other than Benedict Arnold.” She read something about Conway dying in the newspaper, so she doesn’t see the need to include him in this sad, sad list.

She does not miss the fact that they exchange a worried glance, though she lets them think she did.

* * *

As it turns out, someone had fucked up with her medical records somewhere down the line and now she’s being metaphorically dragged to a doctor so that Martha and George — she’s not going to call them Mum and Dad, they can forget that idea — know what they have to b aware of.

“Don’t forget that I warned you that this is going to turn out badly,” she reminds them in the car, multiple times.

After all, she knows how bad it’s looking.

She gets in the Doctor’s office, Martha at her side despite all of Alejandra’s protests, and for the first time in years, an adult actually proves themself to be competent.

Alejandra is too thin and covered in half-healed bruises and scars from her various guardians and her experiences back in the Carribean that feel like they passed almost as long ago as her life as Alexander.

Martha sharply takes in some air and the Doctor turns slightly paler.

“We can please not forget the fact that my kidneys and lungs are not the best they could be?” she requests, unsure of what else to do.

It is not a helpful comment, which is something she really should have guessed.

The doctor sees some of the newest bruises and asks if George did it.

“He most certainly did not,” Martha states truthfully. “Alejandra only joined us the day before yesterday and they haven’t been alone since.”

Alejandra can see the distrust in the Doctors eyes. She recognizes the way that the doctor mutters “he seems the type” — which means black and tall.

“He did not,” _at least not so far_ , she can just about stop herself from mentioning. Instead, she starts pointing at her injuries and naming their origin. “Hurricane, Lee, Burgoyne, Clinton, Lee, Howe, Clinton, Clinton, Lee, Lee, Lee, another Hurricane, Clinton, Lee, Burgoyne, Clinton, Lee, do I need to continue?”

“No,” the Doctor shakes his head. “I think that’s enough.”

He nevertheless demands that she stay the night and Martha agrees to that in an instant.

“You’re important enough and we can afford it,” she explains right before she leaves to get George.

When they return, Alejandra can almost hear the ‘son’ he doesn’t say — almost wants to hear it, for some reason she can’t put her finger on, because _she is not their child_ — when George looks her in the eye and promises her that he’s going to do his best to make her life better from now on.

Considering she really doesn’t fancy learning how it could be any worse, she supports this idea and says as much.

“You deserve more, honey,” Martha announces, shaking her head slightly.

“If you say so.”

**Author's Note:**

> Places to yell at me include the comments and my tumblr @marvelgeek42.
> 
> Was the morning of the arrival at the Washingtons chosen because it's my birthday? That, and the anniversaries I mentioned in the story.
> 
> Translations:  
> mi hija - my daughter  
> No mientras seas tan joven - Not while you are so young


End file.
